


Slow Mornings

by Shriune



Series: Slow Days [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3966745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shriune/pseuds/Shriune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris makes pancakes and Zevran doesn't wake up first for a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honey, honey, sugar, sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I was in need for some fluff, so... here ya go. These are going to be pretty short, too.  
> I am working on multiple fanfictions right now, so I am only slowly progressing.
> 
> Edit: If you want to know what my characters look like, visit my tumblr. I set a page with pictures up there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, so cheesy.... anyway, enjoy.  
> I shouldn't stay up all night and then post fluff.

“What’s that word here?” Varric sighed and shuffled over to the elf who was pointing his finger at a stained piece of paper. He started to regret having come to Hawke’s estate this early in the morning.

All unsuspecting as he was, he had simply hoped to _maybe, just maybe_ snatch a little bit of Hawke’s usually rather sumptuous breakfast for himself, since the sad excuse for an omelet they served at the Hanged Man he hadn’t dared to touch this morning. Varric Thetras loved adventures, but the adventurous experience of the latest stomach bug he gladly forewent.

So, here he was in Hawke’s kitchen, helping out Fenris.

 

Earlier this morning, the elf had found an old crumpled sheet of paper in one of the books he used for his reading practice. The title suggested that the note contained an old pancake recipe Hawke’s late mother had left behind. Eager to make his lover happy, Fenris had set out on the quest to make pancakes for breakfast.

He had borrowed an apron from Orana to not dirty the beautiful new tunic Hawke had given him the other day. The friendly elven girl had also helped him with picking the right ingredients and tools, all the while trying to hide a slightly amused smile. Fenris had refused any further help she had offered and finally had been left alone in the kitchen.

Only then he had realized that even though his reading had gotten a lot better, he couldn’t make out most of the terrific handwriting on his precious find. Therefore, he had been kind of relieved when Varric had arrived, although a little embarrassed to have the writer see him in an outfit like that.Surely that overly creative mind of his was already making up a perverted story again… But it couldn’t be helped, he would never be able to decipher the recipe on his own before the next week.

 

“Sugar. It says ‘add sugar’.” Fenris nodded and followed the dwarf’s instruction. “Next is flour, right?”

Varric made an affirmative noise and the broody ex-slave proceeded to pour flour into the huge bowl. Cracking the eggs proved to be more difficult than he had imagined, but after a few attempts he managed to actually open them over the bowl instead of crushing the whole thing with the liquid dripping on the floor and the shell crumbling all over the place.

After some struggle with adding the final ingredients and stirring the whole sticky mess it was finally time for actually baking the pancakes. Fenris sighed, relieved to have the worst part behind him.

 

Varric’s stomach grumbled loudly while he watched Fenris pour some dough into the frying pan. A sweet, pleasant smell started to fill the kitchen.

Only minutes later a door fell shut upstairs and someone trampled down the stairs, yawning audibly. “Fenris?”

The elf looked up from his work, blushing slightly. He cleared his throat. “I’m here!”

The kitchen door was slowly pushed open and Gin Hawke’s sleepy face appeared. He sniffed, looking baffled. “It can’t be… this smell… Mother’s…”

Fenris dropped his gaze. “Honey pancakes…”, he mumbled barely audible.

The touched look on the rogue’s face displayed pure affection, as he walked over to his lover and pulled him into a gentle embrace. “Hah… whatever did I do to deserve this?”

Fenris lifted his head. “Well…”

Hawke chuckled. “That was a rhetorical question.”

He wiped a trace of flour from Fenris’s nose with his thumb and gently cupped the elf’s face. “I love you…”, he muttered, leaning in for a tender kiss.

Varric felt that this was the perfect time to vanish and silently slipped out of the room. Not without taking two or three of the pancakes with him, of course.


	2. Kisses and socks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished this b*tch~ \^0^/  
> Now I can proceed to fool around with that other stuff I've been trying to write.
> 
> Also: Thank you so much and a biiig hug to everyone who left kudos on this work so far, I really appreciate it. x)

The first thing the Grey Warden noticed when he woke up was the sound of drizzling rain.He stretched lazily and opened his eyes.

The pale morning light coming in through the gaps of the tent flaps made for a pleasant semi-darkness inside the tent.

Suledin snuggled deeper into the furs and turned to his right side. Beside him he could hear deep, relaxed breathing and the occasional sigh or mutter coming from the Antivan sleeping next to him.

He reached out a hand and ran it through his companion’s messy blonde hair. He relished those nights when Zevran didn’t leave right away after having sex, but instead stayed in his lover’s tent until morning. Usually the shorter elf would wake up first and leave not long after.

Years of being with the Crows had made him cautious and wary, and trusting any lover of his had been completely out of question.

So Suledin was all the happier with Zevran sleeping next to him, completely defenseless and vulnerable. A fond smile played on his lips as he leaned over and started planting soft kisses on Zevran’s neck and nibbling at his ear.

“Mmmh…” The assassin shifted under the furs and sighed softly.

The Dalish slid a hand under the covers and ran it over Zevran’s chest and abdomen, causing him to finally open his eyes and turn to his lover.

“Hm... good morning.” The Antivan’s accent was even heavier than usual and his voice seemed a little rasp.

“Slept well, huh?”

Zevran grinned. “Quite. Must be due to your thorough lovemaking, mi amor. Good sex is the key to a peaceful sleep, or so they say.”

The Dalish snorted. “Sure they do. Cheeky bastard.” With a devious grin he leaned over the other elf and slid his tongue into the already invitingly opened mouth.

He continued to kiss him slowly and deeply, Zevran moaning into the kiss from time to time, letting the Warden take control.

Unfortunately, their intimate moment didn’t last very long. They were interrupted by a happy bark from outside followed by a desperate “My socks, not my socks!” from Alistair and some curses from Morrigan, who had been woken up by the ruckus.

Suledin groaned and pulled away from Zevran, looking at him with a wry smile. “Seems like it’s time to get up.”

“Hm, don’t think so”, the assassin retorted, entangling his fingers in Suledin’s long black hair and pulling him down again.

The Warden decided that the others could solve their problems on their own for once. Who cared about socks, anyway?


End file.
